Eine Kleine Nachtmusik
by lifeblood
Summary: What Hermione finds on her patrol. One Shot. RR & Enjoy


1Disclaimer: If I'd've invented it I wouldn't be broke like a joke. On that note, if you sue, you'll get a whole lot of nothin'.

Author's Note: My second completed fic in this pairing. It was inspired by the violinist I was watching on the telly the other day I hope you like this little bit of sweetness as much as I do. Please review, any helpful comments (comments, not flames, they aren't constructive) are appreciated. Many thanks and blessed be,

-lifeblood

This fic is dedicated to Andrew, one of the greatest musicians I've ever had the pleasure and privilege to work with and listen to.

Eine Kleine Nachtmusik

Beautiful cello music drifted achingly up the lower stairs of the castle to fill the ears of Hermione Granger. The Hogwarts Head Girl was currently making the rounds of her Saturday night patrol duty. She stopped, listening to the strains of a melody so lovely and so lonely it brought tears to her eyes. She checked her watch. Nine forty five. Fifteen minutes until her shift was over. Ah, what the hell, nobody was out tonight anyway. It was the last Hogsmeade weekend of the year, and all the students were tired from the day's antics.

She followed the sound down through the labyrinthine corridors of the dungeons, past the potions classroom, past the Slytherin common room. She was as deep in the bowels of the castle as she had ever been. The haunting chords surrounded her, drew her in, filled her. She was helpless to the call of the music. Like the children being led out by the piper, she had to follow it to its source.

This was no student playing this intoxicating air, she knew that for certain. No, this sound could only come from the hands of a master. A master, she mused. There was only one person she knew who would come this far down into the school to release such passion in note and metre. He was the most sarcastic, most taciturn man in the school and, most likely, the world. He terrorized students for fun and had made potions classes hell the last seven years.

He was also the brightest , most intelligent, and bravest man she had ever met. His acid wit was amusing to her, and his mastery of his craft was something that inspired her to work so much harder than she ever would have otherwise. She was close to being crazy about him. Crazy, the perfect word. Harry and Ron would swear she'd taken leave of her senses of she ever mentioned that she found the greasy bat attractive in the least.

She drew near a door that had been left open a crack. There the light and music emerged from within. She stepped near and looked into the room. He was sitting on a stool, his lengthy frame curled around an old and obviously well loved instrument. She stood there for a few minutes, watching him pour everything he was into the melody. His eyes were closed, his face both gentler and more intense than ever she had seen before. The last bars of the piece played out and he sat for a minute, contemplating the next selection.

He drew his bow across the strings, sounding the opening chords of Hayden's concerto for flute and cello. He obviously intended to play the piece alone, but Hermione decided that he would not have a solo tonight. A murmured "accio" and a few moments later she was holding a leather case. Her parents had gifted her with it for her last birthday, instead of the usual books. She was incredibly grateful, as her old one was in constant need of repair.

Lovingly, she drew out a finely crafted flute of solid silver, accentuated with fine gold inlay along the keys, that felt like butter beneath her fingers. She listened to the emanating strains and, perfectly on cue, she joined him with her complementing counter melody. He paused momentarily, but rejoined her almost instantly, and together they played out the soaring heights and depths of the magnificent masterpiece. As the last strains faded into the walls, she could see him rise. She took it as her cue to pack away her instrument.

She was just rising from kneeling on the floor when he stepped out into the hall. Their eyes met in silent communication. Thank you, his eyes told her. It was my pleasure, her eyes replied, filled with emotion. He lifted a hand and stroked her cheek. She closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of his fingertips on her face. He looked down at her beautiful face and his hand stilled. She lifted her eyes to his once more, steady and inviting.

It was too much. He couldn't restrain this feeling any longer. He had fought it for the better part of a year. She was still his student, but by far the brightest witch of any age that he had ever met. Looking into her eyes, so warm, unafraid, feeling the softness of her face beneath his calloused palm, Severus reached a breaking point.

He leaned down and gently pressed his lips to hers. Hermione reached up and placed a hand on his shoulder. He drew back questioningly, fearfully. She only smiled and leaned up to capture his lips in another sweet kiss, both pressing closer to the other.

They drew apart, each understanding that they would have to let the other alone for the time being, until their relationship was no longer restricted by the confines of student and teacher. They made their way out of the dungeons, her hand tucked securely in the crook of his arm. It was a peaceful, dark walk to Hermione's Head Girl suite.

Arriving at the portrait, she turned to him, her small hand sliding to clasp his much larger one. He cupped her cheek with his other hand, a gentle smile smoothing his angled features. Gazing gently into her eyes, he spoke the passwords to her chambers, his voice as much one with the night as the song of his cello.

"Bloodied starlight." It was fitting in these times of war that nothing seemed unsullied, not even the stars.

The portrait swung open, and she stepped inside. Turning back to him, she mimicked his earlier action and stroked her fingertips briefly along his cheekbone before stepping back and allowing the portrait to close. She smiled to herself as she turned in for the night.

He made his way back to his chambers in a calm state. Unusual, for his mind had been troubled of late. It was precisely this internal dissonance that had led him to pour himself out upon his cello this evening. He was glad that she had joined him. It brought him a renewed sense of purpose, hearing the joined voices of their instruments in perfect harmony. He would continue to have something to live for, to believe in, knowing that she cared for him. He would fight for her. For her future. For her, he thought as he drifted off to sleep in his own bed.

Finis


End file.
